


You Said You'd Grow Old With Me

by drewvansexy



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Bullying, F/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2123328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drewvansexy/pseuds/drewvansexy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I woke up this morning with the most brutal hangover I've ever had, and for about fourteen seconds I forgot that you were gone. It took me another twenty-six to realize that you were never coming back." </p><p>Ezra's POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Said You'd Grow Old With Me

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warning: suicide. it isn't too graphic but just in case.

**Day 1**

I woke up this morning with the most brutal hangover I've ever had, and for about fourteen seconds I forgot that you were gone. It took me another twenty-six to realize that you were never coming back.

**Day 2**

Your mother asked me to speak at the service tomorrow. Then, she saw the dark circles under my eyes and the tumbler of amber liquid in my hand and told me this isn't what you would have wanted. As if I don't know that. But it just hurts  _so_ much. I know everyone else is hurting too, but they don't understand. We were supposed to have the rest of our lives together. You and me. We were supposed to have time.

**Day 4**

I haven't moved from this position on the bed since I got home last night. I don't plan on moving anytime soon. I'm frozen—stuck in time ever since they lowered your body into the ground. I think it's true what they say about lovers being connected. As the warmth leaves your body it's also leaving mine.

**Day 5**

I had lunch with Hanna, Emily, and Spencer. Well, they came to my apartment and forced me to eat something other than stale cheerios and scotch. No one said anything until Hanna eventually blurted out that at least now you're at peace. I'm happy for you. If there's anyone who deserves to be at peace it's you. But what about me?

**Day 10**

It's been one week since I last saw you—since I saw you for the last time. I think I owe your brother an apology. He stopped by a couple days ago, and I can't remember much about it, but when I woke up the next morning an empty bottle of whiskey was in pieces near the door, the wall beside the dresser was dented, and my knuckles were bruised underneath the dried blood.

**Day 18**

I threw my phone against the wall today and it broke. I'm not sure if I'll have the energy to get a new one. I don't really know why I need one anyway.

Someone disconnected your number. I tried calling it and all I got this time was that stupid fucking automated message. I think I'm going to be sick.

**Day 23**

I miss you. Like, I'm-reading-all-of-your-old-English-essays kind of missing you. This one's the paper you wrote on Jekyll and Hyde. I should probably stop reading it—I'm afraid my tear stains will smudge the ink. Reading your essays, I can hear your voice in my head. I've read your paper on The Tempest so many times I have it memorized. Sometimes instead of sleeping, I close my eyes and repeat it over and over in my head, and with just the right amount of alcohol I can feel you laying next to me, beautifully telling me about the magical qualities of love at first sight.

**Day 37**

Can I tell you a secret?

I don't know how long I've been staring at this damn photo. It's the one we took on your birthday. You know, the one Spencer snapped at your party that evening when neither of us knew it was being taken. You're sitting on my lap, your head tossed back as you laugh, your hand tangled in my hair, eyes bright, your other hand clasped around mine in your lap, and I'm kissing your cheek—well, in between the corner of your mouth and your cheek. It's my favorite photo of you. You look so happy.

But that's not the secret.

Spencer stopped by my apartment yesterday. She wanted to give me this photo. She said your parents found it when they were going through your room and they thought I should have it. Spencer was quiet for a long time after she handed me the photo. I think she just didn't know what to say. Then she asked me if I was okay. She sort of blurted it out actually. I was silent for a moment—caught off guard by the question—but eventually I answered her. I said yes, but as I'm sure you know by now, because you always seem to know everything, that's the secret. I'm not okay. I am so far from okay that I don't know what else to do except stare at this fucking photo all day and think about your smile, your laugh, your happiness.

We were supposed to move to New York together after you graduated from Rosewood. Did you think of that before you left? Or was there too much pain to think about anything else? Well I'm thinking about it. I'm thinking about the day we talked for five hours on what our apartment would look like, and I'm thinking about how we spent two of those hours fighting about what kind of couch to buy.

Did you think of me at all when you decided to go? Did you think of our anniversary and what you said to me that night? When I asked you to stay with me and you brushed the hair off of my forehead and leaned against it with your own, cupping my face in your hands as you promised me forever. Did you think of our forever? Did you think of your promise when you carved your arms into hollow shells of flesh and bone?

**Day 74**

I'm supposed to feel closure knowing that the sick fuck who did this to you is behind bars. I'm supposed to feel better knowing that Alison DiLaurentis is in custody and about to be tried for her crimes as "A". But I don't. I couldn't feel worse.

I watched her cry at your funeral. I watched her comfort Spencer as she wept at the foot of your gravestone. I thanked her when she told me she was sorry.

I didn't even get to say goodbye to you. Not really. I got to hear Mike's earth-shattering scream coming from upstairs. I got to pull you from the bathtub and hold your limp body in my arms on the tile floor. I tried holding your opened skin together with my hands but there was just so much  _blood._  One of my shaking hands cradled your face and neck and I screamed at Mike to call an ambulance. I pushed the hair away from your face and tried soothing you, whispering 'I love you' over and over again. I pulled you into my chest, burying my face in your hair and neck as I rocked you softly, my tears dampening your cheek. When the ambulance finally came, they were in no rush back to the hospital. And I curled up on the floor of the bathroom crying until there weren't any tears left, and then I was choking out dry sobs.

One hour later I could move but I felt numb. I slowly picked myself up and turned on the sink, watching as the last piece of you disappeared from my hands and stained the water crimson.

That was my goodbye.

I noticed your phone on the floor and almost threw up when I saw the background photo of you leaning into my shoulder.

I actually did throw up when I read the texts:

_Do you enjoy living your life freely while Shana rots away in the ground? -A_

_No one loves a murderer. -A_

_Does Ella know how much of a failure you are? -A_

_It must be exhausting living with all of that guilt. -A_

_How do you live with yourself? -A_

_Just think of how happy everyone would be if you were gone. Don't you think you owe it to them? -A_

I stopped reading, there were still dozens and dozens more but I could feel the bile coming up my throat. I didn't even bother trying for the toilet. I just spilled my guts out right there in the sink. Then, I was crying again.

**Day 100**

It's been one hundred days. The pillow still smells like you.

**Day 129**

I dreamt of you last night. It was the day you surprised me after work at Hollis and brought me to that one really secluded area of the park. It was dark out, but I was still worried that someone would see us. You kept laughing at me and teasing that if I was so worried at night maybe we shouldn't even be seeing each other during the day. I picked you up so quickly, holding you firmly around the waist as I showered your face in kisses and you giggled.

I could listen to you laugh for hours. I wish I'd gotten the chance to.

We lay in the grass that night staring at the sky. You started talking about New York City, how you couldn't wait to move there and be under a star-less sky.

"There's something strangely beautiful about a solid sky. It looks so peaceful. Like I could reach up and never touch a thing. Just a black sky stretched infinitely, uninterrupted by stars," you said.

"But the stars are pretty," I argued.

You shrugged, turning your head to smirk at me. "I wanted to sound deep."

I grinned like an idiot as I stared at you, because this was my future. You were my future.

And then I woke up.

**Day 138**

Happy Anniversary.

Please come back.

**Day 163**

Why?

I would do anything just to have one more moment with you. I just need to ask you why.

Why did you do it? Why did you leave me behind? I would have gone anywhere with you. We could have escaped together. You could've taken me with you. Hanna, Spencer, and Emily are off at college now. Why am I still here?

You turn nineteen today, and you're supposed to be here. You're supposed to be sitting on this couch right beside me blowing out the candles and opening your presents.

You said forever, Aria.

You said you'd grow old with me.


End file.
